Finally
by denalilass90
Summary: Two weeks after the battle of Hogwarts, Hermione still isn't sure of Ron's feelings for her. What happens when they are reunited at the Burrow for the heartbreaking funerals of Fred, Tonks, and Lupin?
1. Chapter 1: Invitations

It had been two weeks. Two _long _weeks since the battle. But, of course, life could not just go back to "normal" or any semblance thereof. There was too much destruction and death, too much left-over fear; too many wrongs to right – wrongs that really couldn't ever be righted.

Hermione had spent the past two weeks attempting to pull her life together – namely, Apparating to Australia and searching out her parents, whose memories she'd modified months ago when she, Harry, and Ron set out on their mad quest for Horcruxes. It had been a clever charm, one that could only be reversed by the caster, so once Hermione had found her mum and dad, she was able to set them right almost immediately. But it required quite a bit of clean-up: modifying their Australian employers' and neighbors' memories and so forth. And then, of course, explaining to her bewildered parents about everything that had happened in the months they couldn't remember.

They were rattled to know how close their daughter had come to death; how close _they _had come to being enslaved by a Dark wizard. It only took a few days to clear things up in Australia, but Hermione had spent over a week in her parents' home, helping them get back into a routine and resume their jobs as dentists ("Just returned from a Sabbatical in Australia," her mum told coworkers proudly, but hemmed and hawed when details were requested).

But now, things had returned to normal in the Muggle world, as far as most were concerned, and Hermione was growing restless. Her parents' house wasn't really home anymore – after all, Hogwarts was where she had spent ten out of twelve months each year – and in any case she was desperate to return to the world of magic. And she was desperate to see Harry and Ron – _especially _Ron – again.

On Saturday evening, her parents already in bed, Hermione sat on her small window seat, trying to concentrate on a novel. The light of the moon coming in through the white-curtained window was bright enough that she didn't need a lamp or her wand, and normally she would have been content to stay there all night, engrossed in her book. But tonight her mind kept whirling in every direction, refusing to settle on the thick novel in her lap.

She finally closed the tome, gently setting it on her small roll-top desk, and propped her chin in her hands, letting her mind whirl as she stared at the full moon.

_What's going to happen to me, to my life?_ the logical part of her brain wondered. _I haven't even finished my last year at Hogwarts – how will I ever find a decent job? How will I support myself? And I can't keep living here with my parents – where will I find a house? Maybe I can rent a flat with someone, that might be cheaper… do wizards even _have_ flats?_

Another, insistent voice in her head whispered, _you could get a flat with Ron…_

Just thinking his name was all it took for Hermione's cheeks to flush and her heart to race. Her mind filled, unbidden, with images of that desperate kiss, so fleeting in the heat of battle, when neither of them knew if they were to survive the next few hours. Ron's lips against hers, his arms firm around her waist, her hands about his neck. It had been, she thought, the happiest moment of her life, despite the chaos and sorrow that surrounded it.

But doubts were always creeping into her mind, ruining her blissful remembrances. _I started the kiss,_ she thought uncomfortably. It had been a bold and entirely un-Hermione-ish thing to do, and even now she wondered if she had been right to do so. _Perhaps he doesn't feel the same way I do, and just kissed me back because… well, because he's a teenaged boy. And of course he's busy with his family_ – this brought a tear to her eye as she thought of Fred – _but surely he would have sent an owl? Although I never sent him one, to be fair._ Truth be told, she'd started several, but never could get past the opening line. Dear Ron…

Hermione was startled out of her thoughts by a loud rapping on the window, right next to her cheek where she had laid it against the cool glass. She gave a small squeak of surprise, but saw straightaway that it was only an owl – a nondescript, tawny bird she didn't recognize. She let up the window and the owl hopped, businesslike, onto the sill and dropped a familiar-looking envelope into her lap. It was addressed in sparkling emerald ink:

_Miss Hermione Granger_

_The Blue Bedroom_

_517 Coriander Lane_

She flipped it over to see the official Hogwarts seal in crimson wax. Intrigued – why would Hogwarts continue to correspond? – she broke the seal with her thumbnail and slid out the letter.

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_Due to unfortunate circumstances the previous year, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will be allowing all students who did not complete their seventh year to return and finish their schooling. We are pleased to announce that you are once again admitted to Hogwarts, and look forward to seeing you September first at King's Cross Station. Enclosed is your list of required books and supplies._

_Sincerely,_

_Headmistress Minerva McGonagall_

Hermione could hardly believe her eyes – she could return to Hogwarts and complete the year she had missed! She could take her N.E.W.T.S., conference with her professors about potential jobs… her life wasn't doomed, after all. With a sigh of relief, she took out the list of required items and began poring over it. There was of course the _Standard Book of Spells, Grade Eight_ – well, that was obvious. _Advanced Potions and Antidotes_, _N.E.W.T. Level Charms_, _Ancient Runes: Gaining Expertise_…

Engrossed in the parchment as she was, Hermione almost jumped out of her skin when another owl body-slammed itself into the upper part of the window. It stuck there, almost comically, and then slid down with a sickening squeak. Hermione managed to catch it through the open window and dragged it inside, shaking her head.

"You scared me, Errol," she whispered, a hand still at her throat. For a moment, her heart jumped at the thought of a letter from Ron, but realized almost at once that the handwriting on the front was much neater than his messy scrawl. The bird shook his scraggly head dazedly and gave a feeble hoot as she took the black-enveloped letter from the owl's talon and slit it open.

_Dear Hermione,_

_You are invited to attend a memorial service for Fred Weasley and Remus and Nymphadora "Tonks" Lupin. The service will be held Sunday, August 15th at 2pm at the Burrow._

_Sincerely,_

_Arthur and Molly Weasley & Ted and Alice Tonks_

Another small piece of parchment was attached, which read, _"We would be happy to have you at the Burrow for the remainder of the summer holidays – Harry will also be here. Love, Mrs. Weasley."_

Reading the brief letter, Hermione sobered immediately. She had tried hard not to think about Fred, Lupin, and Tonks in the past few weeks, and had almost succeeded simply because she had been so busy with her parents. But now she thought sadly about each one of them: Fred, with his flaming red hair, always with his twin, always cracking jokes. _The poor Weasleys – especially George – _she thought, _I don't suppose they're holding up very well_.

And then there was Lupin, the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher they had ever had at Hogwarts. But more than a teacher, he had been a friend, always ready to lend a hand or a bar of chocolate. And Tonks – here Hermione couldn't hold back her tears – Tonks, who had always been the life and soul of every gathering, with her brilliantly pink hair and devious grin. Tonks, who had sent Hermione and Ginny into such fits of laughter with her goofy pig-nose trick.

Hermione was crying outright by now, trying to do so quietly so that her parents wouldn't hear and waken. She had been trying so hard to be composed and calm, to face the devastation left in Voldemort's wake with a serene outlook, but all it had taken was one little letter to break through the careful walls she had built. Her ribs hurt, as they did lately when she was upset or stressed, a lingering effect of Bellatrix's torture at Malfoy Manor. Hard to believe that had only been a month ago.

Still sniffling, she took out a piece of parchment and wrote a quick, affirmative reply, and gave it to Errol, who took it in his beak and hopped dazedly out the window, only remembering to spread his wings when he was inches from the ground. Knowing she needed to get some rest, for the 15th was tomorrow, Hermione plaited her bushy hair into a braid and fell into bed, wishing with all her heart that a certain red-haired someone were there to kiss her goodnight.


	2. Chapter 2: Arrival

"Bye Mum, bye Dad," Hermione said one final time, gripping Crookshanks tightly as she prepared to Apparate to the Burrow.

"We'll miss you, darling," Jeanette Granger told her daughter. To her and her husband, Leonard, it wasn't much different from all the other times Hermione had gone away to the Burrow or to Grimmauld Place before school. As much as they loved their daughter, they had gotten so used to the house without her presence that her being home was a treat, not the norm.

Hermione gave them each a peck on the cheek and then spun in place, feeling the familiar sensation of being sucked through a vacuum hose. She opened her eyes, gasping a little at the pain in her chest, and was almost immediately pulled into a warm hug by Mrs. Weasley.

"Hermione!" came Molly's voice, muffled against Hermione's hair, "I'm so glad you're here, dear." Hermione didn't know what to say to comfort Mrs. Weasley, who seemed to be crying, so she just patted the motherly woman's back as best she could while attempting not to let go of Crookshanks, who was spitting and scratching.

Finally, Mrs. Weasley let go and stepped back, wiping her eyes on her apron. She shook herself a little and put on a composed expression. "I'm sorry dear. Oh, don't you look lovely." Hermione had on a black lawn dress and her hair was pulled back with a large pearl barrette, though some curls were defiantly escaping. "Why don't you put your things up in Ginny's room – I think she may still be sleeping, do wake her up, won't you?"

"Of course," Hermione replied, letting Crookshanks down onto the floor and brushing a few stray cat hairs off her dress. He scampered a few feet away, then plopped down and began grooming a paw, glaring at his captor with a baleful expression. He really hated Apparition. Hermione ruffled his ears as she went past, then climbed the crooked steps, magicking her trunk so that it floated several feet in front of her. At the top landing, she turned left, resolutely refusing to look to the right, where Ron's bedroom was, and attempted to open Ginny's door. It was locked.

"_Alohamora_," she said, and floated her trunk in to sit neatly on the floor next to Ginny's. Only then did she glance towards the bed. It was rather more crowded than usual, for curled up next to Ginny, his arm draped across her waist, was Harry. Seeing them sleeping there, Hermione blushed deeply, backing out of the room and relocking the door. She was truly glad for her two friends' happiness, but somehow it seemed improper to spy on them like that.

Back out in the hallway, she cast a furtive glance towards Ron's door. She knew she shouldn't, but her traitorous feet carried her down the crooked hall anyway, and her disloyal hands knocked softly on the door. Hearing no reply, she pushed open the door and stepped silently inside.

The room was as garishly orange as she remembered, covered as the walls were with posters of the Chudley Cannons, Ron's favorite Quidditch team. The team members were mostly snoring, hovering asleep on their broomsticks, but of few of them raised sleepy eyebrows at the sight of a girl in the room.

Her eyes flicked from the extra cot – empty – to the slightly larger bed in the corner, where Ron was sleeping. He looked… softer… in sleep, she thought, than he did in waking. His long legs were tangled in the sheets, his freckled face peaceful. It was the sight of his sleep-tousled, gingery hair, though, that made her palms itch. She wanted to run her fingers through that hair so badly. She involuntarily stepped a pace forward, then stopped, horrified, as he shifted in bed and mumbled something. Heart beating, Hermione couldn't move a muscle – what if he awoke and found her staring at him? – but then relaxed, smiling, as a snore escaped him. He was clearly still asleep. He mumbled again, inarticulate, and Hermione again stepped closer, intrigued.

"Scored a goal, murflesnork, grumble…" he muttered. Hermione grinned. Of course he would be dreaming about Quidditch.

"Hermione…" Hermione froze. Had he just said her name? But he was still sleeping. " 'Mione," he murmured again, and rolled over.

"Hermione?" came Mrs. Weasley's voice from downstairs. "Is Ginny awake?" Startled out of her frozen state, Hermione ran into the hallway, shutting Ron's door as softly as she could. Heart pounding, ribs aching, she caught her breath – which she hadn't realized she'd been holding until now – and called back over the banister,

"She was sleeping so soundly I didn't have the heart to wake her, Mrs. Weasley."

"Well dear, better wake her anyway. We've got to set up chairs for the memorial…" she sniffled a little, but her voice didn't waver as she continued. "And do wake Harry and Ron, too."

Hermione nodded, and then commenced to banging on both Ginny's and Ron's doors, rather than actually going back into the rooms to wake them properly. When she heard movement behind both doors, she flew downstairs as fast as her feet could carry her, forgetting that she could have Apparated just as easily.

Downstairs, she settled herself at the kitchen table, which had been set for breakfast. Trying to look calm, Hermione tucked an escaped curl behind her ear. Crookshanks sauntered over and jumped up into her lap, apparently done sulking over being forced through both Apparation and Mrs. Weasley's hug. She was stroking his large head when Ginny, Harry, and Ron came in.

"Hermione!" Ginny exclaimed, and came over at once to hug her friend. She looked radiant, her cheeks rosy and her flaming hair almost glowing in the early morning light. As she looked out the window at the spot where the memorial was to take place, her eyes grew sad, but she did not lose her bright appearance. Hermione suspected it had something to do with the fact that she and Harry were back together.

"Hi Hermione," Harry said also, and came over to hug her as well. "It's great to see you, did you get your letter about Hogwarts?"

"Yes I did, and I must say, I'm so glad to be going back."

"Me too," Harry confided, and then stepped aside, to join Ginny at the other end of the kitchen, both of them sharing a brief, confidential look. This left Hermione face-to-face with Ron. They looked at each other for a moment; glanced away. Hermione toyed with her hair; Ron scratched the back of his neck.

"Um, hi," Hermione said, breaking the silence.

"Hi, 'Mione," Ron returned.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke, and then Hermione stepped forward and hugged him. _I guess I'm always going to be the one to initiate things,_ she thought wryly, pleased as he returned her embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Ron, about… about Fred," Hermione said quietly as they both took seats at the table.

"Yeah. Me too. I just keep wondering, if I'd jinxed just one more Death Eater… would he have made it? If I'd turned a corner sooner, or… or something," Ron said, mostly to his plate.

"Ronald," Hermione said severely, "you can't think like that. You saved a lot of lives by what you _did _do that night. Fred… he wouldn't have liked us to blame ourselves. And neither would anyone else," she said a little louder as Harry and Ginny sat down.

Mrs. Weasley came in then with a huge platter of pancakes and sausages, and the dismal conversation ended – none of them wanted to upset her. Watching Ron eat steadily through a stack of eight pancakes, never glancing her way, Hermione thought how she would have liked to hold his hand under the table, as Harry and Ginny were clearly doing. _Perhaps now isn't the time,_ she told herself. _Perhaps it will never be the right time_, she thought sadly. _Maybe I'm deluding myself that he cares for me that way. _And suddenly, the pancakes that had previously been so delicious now tasted like sawdust in her mouth.


	3. Chapter 3: Memorial

"We are here to remember the lives of our dear friends and family members Fred Weasley, Remus Lupin, and Nymphadora Tonks Lupin," the small, ancient wizard, who had presided over both Dumbledore's funeral and Bill and Fleur's wedding, was saying. Hermione was miserable. A memorial service wasn't an enjoyable occasion to attend at the best of times, and on top of that, the sun was beating down mercilessly. She was sweating in her black dress, her hair hot and itching the back of her neck.

"…sorely missed by all who knew them. They gave their lives for our safety and well-being – it is partly due to their sacrifice that we sit here as free witches and wizards today," the cleric continued. Ginny was crying quietly into Harry's shoulder; Mrs. Weasley was sobbing openly as Mr. Weasley stroked her hair. A tear ran silently down Hermione's cheek as well. She brushed it off with her fist and tried to concentrate on the words being spoken.

"…a wonderful son and brother, he always brought a smile to the faces of his friends and family. He was also a successful entrepreneur and a talented student…" Hermione glanced over at Ron, sitting at her right side. He looked straight ahead with a blank expression on his face that she knew meant he was attempting to hide his emotions. His hands were clenched into tight fists on his legs. She wanted to comfort him somehow, but couldn't think how to do so within the confines of this strange, tense new relationship they seemed to have. She compromised by moving her right hand a tiny bit, so that the knuckle of her pinky finger barely touched his leg.

"…was a good teacher, good friend, good husband and father. His legacy will live on in his son, Theodore…" She doubted that he could even feel the light touch through his heavy black dress robes, but a moment later, she was startled to feel something touch her right hand – his own knuckle, barely grazing hers. Still looking ahead, she moved her hand an infinitesimal degree closer. He responded in kind.

"…a brave and intelligent Auror, she brought down countless Death Eaters alongside her husband…" All of a sudden, Ron's large hand closed gently around Hermione's. They sat through the rest of the service, not saying a word; fingers intertwined.


	4. Chapter 4: Finally

Two hours later, after the service had ended and the many guests thanked, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny sat dejectedly in the shade of a large Flowerfly tree in full bloom. Ever few minutes, one of the large white flowers would transform into a gauzy butterfly and flit away, to land somewhere else and take root.

No one spoke, lost as they all were in their own thoughts, until suddenly Ginny stood up, pulling Harry with her. "Come on, Harry, I want to show you something." The two walked off, hand in hand.

"Probably gone off to snog each other," Ron said, but he had no vehemence in his voice. He was secretly pleased that, if his little sister had to snog _someone_, at least it was Harry.

Hermione made a noncommittal noise. She wanted to breach the subject of her and Ron's own kiss, but her usually logical brain could think of no way to do so without subjecting herself to embarrassment.

They sat silently for what seemed like an hour, but was probably no more than five minutes, before Hermione decided she would just say something to him. She couldn't bear the silence any longer – what she would have given for even a heated argument with him. "Ron," she said, at the exact same time he turned towards her and said her name.

"Oh, go ahead,"

"No, you go ahead,"

"No, you,"

"Bloody hell!" Hermione said suddenly. Ron looked taken aback at the curse. Surely he'd never heard such a thing come from her lips before.

"Can't we just… talk… or something? Honestly, Ron, I think we've said a total of ten words to each other since I got here, and I hate feeling awkward around you, and I don't know what to say…" to her embarrassment, she burst into tears. "I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I'm so sorry…"

She was bent over, arms hugging her knees, sobs wracking her body and making her ribs throb with pain. It was everything changing at once, for the good and the bad. It was dealing with death and devastation. But most of all, it was the petrifying thought that she was going to lose him. She'd been physically petrified before, in their second year at Hogwarts, but that was nothing compared to the paralyzing fear she felt when she thought of losing not only Ron's friendship, but also anything more they could have been.

Eyes shut tightly, she imagined Ron's mortified face and cried even harder. But then she felt his hands on her shoulders, pulling her upright and taking her into his arms.

"Shh, don't cry. 'Mione, _please_ don't cry," Ron said, chagrin in his voice. Hermione took a shuddering breath against his shirtfront, inhaling the smell of him. It calmed her immediately.

"Hermione, I _wanted _to talk to you, _really_. I just didn't know what to say. I always say the wrong thing around you…"

Hermione smiled, drying her tears and looking up at him. He looked so earnest that she had to laugh, and the sound seemed to reassure him that she was over her hysterical moment. She leaned her head against his shoulder and they sat there peacefully for a moment.

"Hermione?" She turned to find Ron looking at her. His face was only inches away. She tried to answer, but the words seemed caught in her throat. He had a very serious expression on his freckled face as he brushed a curl away from her cheek. Hermione couldn't breathe. They were so close, their noses were almost touching, the distance between them closing too swiftly and somehow much too slowly. And then, he was kissing her softly, and she could think of nothing but the feel of his lips against hers and his hands in her hair and on her face.

It was somehow so different from the first time she'd kissed him. Then, they had both thrown all their fear and desperation into the kiss, along with the pent-up longing that they'd both kept bottled inside for years. It was over like a quick blaze of heat, no time to talk – only time to run for their lives.

This time, though, was soft and slow; unhurried. He was so gentle – stroking her cheeks, running his fingers through her hair, kissing her sweetly – that she wasn't sure this was the Ron she knew. Once, their noses bumped and she couldn't suppress a giggle that came out more as a breathless sigh.

After another moment that seemed to last for eternity and then again for less than a second, they pulled apart – mainly to breathe. Hermione's chest was aching again, but she barely felt it. As both their eyes fluttered open, their gazes met, and then Ron was glancing away, freckled cheeks flushed – but not before Hermione saw the happiness shining in his face, as it must also be from hers.

"So…" Ron said, in a slightly breathless voice,

"Yes?"

Ron looked embarrassed again, but bravely met her gaze and said, in a rush of words, "Dyouknowholongwantedothat?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow in a gesture so familiar that he had to smile back.

"What was that again?"

"Erm… do you know… how long I've wanted to do that?"

Hermione felt a blush stain her own cheeks, but held her gaze steady. "Probably not as long as I have."

When they finally made it back to the Burrow, Harry and Ginny – curled up together on the couch – looked at each other, shaking their heads, and said, "Finally!"

For when Ron and Hermione walked through the crooked door, they had eyes for no one else but each other, and their fingers were laced together so tightly that no spell could have broken them apart.


End file.
